For a brief moment the boy hesitated. ‘Has – has Mama said so?’
‘Yes, she knows I’m here and she says you have to go to sleep at half past seven. But we’ve at least twenty minutes, so – what would you like me to read?’
He shut the book he’d been looking at, ran across the room and into the neighbouring nursery to a small bookcase to replace the book he carried and pull out another. ‘Aesop’s Fables,’ he said, carrying it back to her. ‘The story about the fox and the crow.’
Theo settled into his bed and Annabel sat down beside him. For the next half an hour, she read from the book. At twenty to eight, she said, ‘We must stop now or we’ll both be in trouble. Snuggle down and I’ll put the book back on your bookcase. There now, do you have a teddy in bed with you?’
The boy was suddenly solemn-faced again. ‘No, Mama says only babies have cuddly toys. She’s given them all away.’
Annabel felt the prickle of tears in her throat. The little boy was only just five. She went to the side of the bed and bent down to kiss his forehead. Suddenly, his arms were around her neck and he planted a kiss on her cheek. ‘Thank you for reading to me, Aunt Annabel.’
‘I’ve enjoyed it,’ she said, her voice not quite steady. ‘I’ll read to you again when Mama is busy.’
‘Mama only ever reads one story. You read three,’ he whispered, as if it should be a secret between them. And it would be, Annabel thought.
‘Night, night, sleep tight,’ she said as she tiptoed out of the door.
On the landing she stood for a moment. What a sad, lonely little boy he was. If only, she thought, he could meet his cousin. Perhaps they could be friends. She sighed. But that was something Dorothea would never allow.
Reading a story to her nephew at his bedtime became a regular occurrence and one which Annabel looked forward to each day. Her restoration of the estate and the village continued. Progress was slow and yet already there were definite signs of improvement. Fields were being ploughed and winter wheat set – a little later than usual, but at least it was being done now.
Over the next few weeks, more livestock arrived at the farms, thanks to Annabel’s grandfather. Edward was well known – and well liked – in the district and word soon spread about the hard times the folk of Fairfield were suffering. More cattle arrived through Edward’s shrewd bargaining and sometimes by just appealing to his generous fellow farmers. Now, the four farms had six cows each and Ben had six Lincoln Reds too.
‘Now it’s my turn to embarrass you, m’lady,’ he told her with a chuckle, ‘by saying a heartfelt thank you. You couldn’t have bought me a finer present.’
A further flock of twenty ewes arrived for Adam, and Edward’s ram was brought in during the first week in October.
‘I’ve put the red ochre on his chest for you,’ Edward told Adam when he delivered the animal.
When Adam looked mystified, Edward chuckled. ‘It’s a trick I’ve learned. You’ll see.’ And three weeks later, Adam understood. All the ewes now had red marks on their hindquarters, indicating that the ram had serviced them.
‘I’ve got you some more sows, six in all,’ Edward announced in November. ‘They’ve already been serviced by Joe Moffatt’s boar, so I know they’ll be of good, strong stock. And Joe’s bringing his boar here next week – free of charge this time, he said. He wants to do his bit to help. Now, my lovely, who’s to have them?’
‘My goodness, Gramps! However did you manage that?’
Edward laughed and tapped the side of his nose. ‘It’s not always what you know, it’s who you know – and a bit of smart negotiating. You don’t always need to go to market to find a bargain.’
‘It’d be nice if all four farms could have one each, I think, and then maybe an extra one for Jim and for Dan and William too. A couple of pigs might be just the thing to prise Dan out of his armchair.’
The livestock thrived and soon, a little money began to trickle back into the pockets of the farmers, but not enough yet to repay Annabel, whose bank accounts and share holdings were being sorely depleted.
‘Don’t you spend all your money,’ her grandfather warned. ‘I’ve a little put by. Let me help.’
‘No, Gramps,’ Annabel said firmly. ‘You’ve done enough already.’ She smiled and hugged him. ‘But thank you for the offer. You’re a dear.’
‘Just promise me that if you need help, you know where to come. I don’t expect there’s any more money on offer from your father, now that he has what he wants.’
When speaking of Ambrose Constantine, Edward’s voice always hardened. He hadn’t approved of Annabel’s marriage, believing – quite rightly – that it was Ambrose’s machinations that had brought it about. Still, he comforted himself, she seemed happy enough and she wasn’t far away from him now if she wanted help. Though, he smiled to himself, she really didn’t seem to need it. How safe his farm would be in her capable hands, he thought, even if she still had the estate to manage too.
Annabel had been dutiful in writing to her parents each week, but she kept the letters light and was careful not to mention the true state of affairs on the estate. And certainly she didn’t tell them that she was spending her own money on its restoration. Nor was she particularly anxious to see them; their devious manipulation in bringing about her marriage to a nobleman had sickened her. So she was thrown into consternation when a letter from her mother said that she would be visiting. It was not a request or a suggestion; it was a statement. Annabel felt a moment’s panic until she read the next few lines:
I shall be staying with your grandparents at Meadow View Farm for two nights just before Christmas. No doubt your grandfather will drive me over to see you.
She breathed a sigh of relief. Her mother needn’t see the dilapidated state of the whole house, nor know the extent of the neglect on the farms. Two of the village shops were now open – only Eli Merriman’s remained firmly closed. He was still refusing to budge. But today, Annabel had other matters on her mind. The school and its continued closure concerned her. The village children – healthier now that better food and more of it was available – were running wild. It was time something was done and there seemed to be one person standing in the way of the management board taking steps to appoint a teacher: Daniel Broughton.
Annabel folded her mother’s letter and tucked it away in the drawer of her dressing table. She would reply to it tonight once she had finished reading Theo his bedtime story; that time was now sacrosanct. And Dorothea seemed quite happy to hand over the task to her, but Annabel didn’t see it as a chore; she cherished the time she spent with the little boy. She put on her coat and hat and wrapped a warm scarf around her neck against the raw November day to walk to Chaffinch Farm. She didn’t want to take up Ben’s time by asking him to take her there; he now had so much to do with revitalizing Home Farm as well as keeping an eye on the progress of all the tenant farmers. She really must get a pony and trap for the use of those at the Hall. Luke would care for the animal, she decided, alongside the one which Ben used. In the courtyard there were empty stables and coach houses just waiting to be used again. As she walked, she glanced about her, gratified to see the livestock grazing in the fields. Already there was a feeling that the farms were slowly coming back to life. In an arable field close to the farmyard she saw William struggling to control two heavy shires pulling a plough across the field. She paused to watch him for a few moments. The first few furrows were crooked, but the last two he had ploughed looked much better. Annabel smiled ruefully. Poor William; he was learning the hard way.
When Lily opened the back door in answer to her knock, Annabel stepped into the warmth of the kitchen with its appetizing smell of freshly baked bread. A pan of stew simmered on the newly black-leaded range and Lily bustled about her kitchen, chattering all the time, covering, Annabel thought, for the silent man, who still occupied the chair near the fire. He didn’t even look up when she sat down in the chair opposite him and accepted Lily’s offer of a cup of t
ea and a newly baked scone with jam and cream.
‘I can’t tell you what a joy it is to have the dairy up and running again, m’lady,’ Lily enthused. ‘And William’s doing very nicely with the ploughing, though he’s finding it hard on his own.’ She glanced swiftly at her husband but then looked away again. Annabel could see at once that Lily resented her husband’s idleness whilst their son struggled to cope. But, today, Annabel was determined to try another tack.
‘Mr Broughton, I need your help.’
She waited until the man slowly raised his head. ‘Mine?’ He sounded incredulous.
‘We need to get the school open again and I understand you were on the board. The vicar has arranged a meeting for tomorrow night and we need you there. James is away and I shall attend – if everyone is agreeable – in his place, but my presence won’t be official. So, Mr Webster says, we need you there.’
‘Is Fletcher going?’
‘Yes.’ Mentally, Annabel crossed her fingers; actually, she didn’t know. Richard Webster had said he would see both Jabez and Jim Chadwick.
‘It’s the least you can do, Dan,’ Lily, who had been listening to every word, put in. ‘After all her ladyship has done for us all.’
Annabel stood up. ‘I’ll ask Ben to pick you up in the pony and trap, shall I? About seven?’
She turned, nodded her farewells to Lily, and walked out of the room without waiting for an answer.
‘I aren’t going,’ Daniel growled once Annabel was out of earshot.
Lily said no more; she knew better than to badger her husband. He was more likely to go if the matter wasn’t mentioned again and his own conscience was left to do the nagging. But it was William who unwittingly caused his father to have a change of heart. He came in at teatime, fuming with indignation. ‘It’s high time they opened the school again. I’ve had four little buggers – sorry, Mam – following me all day throwing clods of earth at the horses. I’ve enough trouble handling them shires without them being pelted by hooligans. If I knew who they were, I’d tell their dads. They should be in school – that’s where they should be – not running wild around the village.’
Lily dished up their meal and sat down at the table, taking care to keep her glance away from Dan. She said nothing, but later she told William about Annabel’s visit. ‘Don’t say owt, but I can see he’s thinking about it now.’ She patted his arm. ‘You did well, son, to tell us when you did.’
‘It’ll do no good,’ William muttered. ‘Nowt’ll get him out of that chair.’
But William was wrong, for the very next evening, Dan appeared downstairs dressed in his best suit. True, the suit had seen better days, but there was no money to spend on new clothes and at least he had made the effort.
‘What time did her ladyship say Ben’d come for me?’
‘Seven,’ Lily said, sitting down near the range and taking up her mending. She lowered her head to hide her smile.
‘I’ll walk out an’ watch for him coming, then.’
‘Aye, good idea, and while you’re out there, have a look at how William’s getting on with the ploughing.’ She said no more. If Daniel had even a tiny spark of pride left, he wouldn’t want to see the furrows in his fields all higgledy-piggledy. Maybe . . . Lily dared to hope.
Thirty-Seven
The meeting went well. Richard Webster took the chair and the five members of the previous board who were present co-opted Annabel onto the board. Out of deference to her position, Richard suggested they should appoint her as chairman, but Annabel demurred.
‘I can’t possibly act as chairman when I know so little about the position. Please, if the others are happy, you should continue as chairman, Mr Webster.’
‘His lordship was always the chairman,’ Jabez said, ‘that were the old man, of course. Lord Albert never attended a meeting at all, and your husband – well, he’s not here, is he? That’s different.’
Annabel smiled, though she was rather afraid that even if he had been here, James might not have taken up his duties either. She was glad when the topic of conversation moved on to how they could appoint a suitable teacher quickly.
‘I was talking to the vicar of St Michael’s Church in town,’ Richard told them. ‘And he said that they’ve recently appointed a new headmaster for the school there. They had several very good applicants and the decision was difficult and came down to a close-run thing between two. They finally agreed on one, but he wondered if we’d like to consider the other one. Evidently, he was a very good candidate.’
‘Mr Chairman,’ Jabez spoke up. ‘Do we have to advertise the post?’
‘I’m not sure, I’ll make further enquiries, but because there is a matter of urgency perhaps we could make a temporary appointment and then advertise it if we have to. This man could then apply for the permanent post, if he wished.’
‘But surely he won’t leave his present post for a temporary one with no guarantee of it being made permanent,’ Dan said, speaking for the first time since the meeting had begun.
‘That’s a very good point, Mr Broughton,’ Richard said and scanned down the page of neat handwriting in front of him. ‘It seems,’ he said slowly, ‘that Mr Porter has lost his wife recently. He has two young children and has come to live in Thorpe St Michael to be near his wife’s parents, who are to help him care for the children.’
There were murmurings of sympathy around the table for the unknown man.
‘So,’ Richard asked them, ‘what do you think?’
They glanced at each other before Jim Chadwick ventured, ‘I say give him a trial. Can’t hurt as long as we have a get-out clause in place. That is, if his appointment is temporary.’
‘Then may I have a seconder for Jim’s proposal?’
Dan nodded and then Richard asked, ‘Are we all in favour?’ When there was a chorus of ‘ayes’ around the table, Richard noted it down. He was also acting as unofficial clerk for the meeting and would write up his notes later in the official minute book.
‘Then I will write to Mr Porter and invite him to come to see us.’ A suggested date was agreed upon and they moved on to the next item on the agenda, which Richard had prepared.
‘How did it go?’ Lily asked when Dan arrived home, sat down in his chair and bent to unlace his boots.
‘Fine,’ Dan answered, and he recounted all that had happened in the meeting. When he had finished, he glanced around. ‘Where’s William?’
‘Gone to bed. He’s shattered, poor lad.’
Dan grunted. ‘He’s trying hard, I can see that, but his ploughing’s not up to much. Reckon I’d better show him how it’s done tomorrow.’
Lily hid her smile and sent up a silent prayer of thankfulness, remembering to thank the Good Lord for the arrival of the new Lady Fairfield in their midst.
Eli Merriman remained obstinate and Annabel decided to leave things as they were for the time being, but there was still one household in the village she had not visited since the day she had brought Agnes Banks home from the workhouse and it was now the first week in December. On the Friday morning, it rained but the afternoon was fine so Annabel decided to visit Nancy and her family. She walked down the village street while it was still daylight so that all the villagers should see exactly where she was going. She knocked on the front door of the cottage and smiled when a wide-eyed and flustered Nancy opened the door.
‘May I come in?’
‘Oh – er – your ladyship. Yes, yes, of course.’
Annabel stepped inside. ‘How is your mother?’
‘She’s well. She’s in here.’ Nancy opened the door to the front parlour where Agnes sat near the window, embroidering a large linen tablecloth, with huge butterflies in each corner. When she saw Annabel she began to get up, but Annabel waved her to sit down again. ‘Please don’t disturb yourself. My, what fine work, Mrs Banks. How clever you are.’ Annabel laughed. ‘Despite my mother’s best efforts to have me instructed in all the creative arts that a woman is supposed to possess, I can�
�t sew or knit or even paint a passable watercolour. And as for playing the piano, my poor music teacher despaired.’ She sat down in a nearby chair and came straight to the point of her visit. ‘Have you thought any more about starting up again as dressmakers?’
Agnes looked up quickly at her daughter. ‘We’ve thought of nothing else, m’lady, but I don’t see how we can.’ She dropped her gaze as she murmured, ‘Who’d bring their patronage to the likes of us?’
‘Now, now, Mrs Banks, that’s all behind us now. The villagers are courteous to you, aren’t they?’
‘They serve us in the shops, if that’s what you mean. And some of them are quite friendly in the street.’
‘But they ignore us when we go to church,’ Nancy said softly. ‘I’m sure they don’t think I should set foot in there.’
‘Give it time,’ Annabel said gently. ‘Hopefully, the school will be open again soon and Bertie will be able to go to school. If he—’ She stopped, startled by the look of fear that flitted across Nancy’s face. ‘What is it?’
‘He can’t go there. He’d be bullied, taunted. Called all sorts of – of horrible names.’ She blushed furiously and hung her head. ‘And worse still, they’d be true.’
‘No one will call him names or mistreat him,’ Annabel said firmly. ‘I’ll see to that.’
Nancy smiled wistfully. ‘I know you mean well, m’lady, and I’m – we’re so grateful for what you’ve done for us already.’ She moved to her mother’s side and placed her hand on the older woman’s shoulder. ‘You don’t know what it means to have my mother back with us and – and to know that she has forgiven me for bringing shame—’
‘Now, now, no more talk of that. We’re interviewing a teacher for the school and if he takes up the post, I’ll have a word with him – ask him to watch out for Bertie. Where is Bertie, by the way? I’d like to see him.’
‘He’s playing in the back garden.’
Fairfield Hall Page 23
